


if i am the river, you are the ocean

by littlelocaldreamer



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Breakup, Insomnia, M/M, No Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, PTSD, Post-Titan and Thanos, Shower Sex, Time hop, aged up peter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-07 10:56:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18619231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlelocaldreamer/pseuds/littlelocaldreamer
Summary: The one where Tony can't sleep and Peter can't stop his hands from shaking.





	if i am the river, you are the ocean

**Author's Note:**

> title from the song "silenced by the night"

It took 3 years. 

When they returned those lost to the snap, Tony didn’t expect to break down so utterly and completely. 

He’d just put his entire team through hell- and won. 

He should have been on cloud nine, stars and tears in his eyes as he watched reunion after reunion.

But then Peter appeared.

And Tony’s heart jumped to his throat as the kid collapsed into his arms. Just like on Titan—but this time he didn’t disappear. 

And he didn’t let go.

Almost three months have passed.

The compound is the busiest it’s ever been, everyone making future plans. Loki, Thor, and Bruce are planning on setting up an Asgardian establishment across the pond. Some place their father picked. A siren of a woman will be joining them. She goes by Valkyrie.

Steve, Bucky, Sam, and Natasha left for Wakanda with T’Challa a little over a month ago. 

The Guardians return to space with Hawkeye tonight. They’re antsy down here on the ground. 

They offered Carol a spot on their team but much to Tony’s surprise she turned them down. She plans to stay with Wanda, Vision, Rhodey, Happy, Pepper, and Peter at the compound for the time being. 

“Unfinished business here,” she explains when Tony asks, cheeks flushed pink. 

Fury’s delighted, to say the least. He and Carol’s former partner Maria arrive this weekend. Tony’s also become quite fond of the titan, she’s an incredible force of nature. 

“Stay as long as you like,” he tells her with a sincere smile. 

Life has to go on and everyone seems to be moving forward—except Peter. He’s severely attached to Tony, having only been away from him for a handful of hours since the Snap Back. 

The first time being for an emotional, intense reunion with May. 

Then the second for another reunion, just as touching, with MJ and Ned. 

Tony wasn’t with him either time but Peter called for a suit to pick him up immediately afterwards in each situation. 

He cringes when he wonders what May Parker must think of him. 

Not that he can know for certain, he can’t get her on the phone. 

He sighs, setting down a bot he’s attempting to morph into a drone.

He knows he needs to do something, say something. Everyone’s weirded out. The only time Peter isn’t physically next to Tony outside of the bathroom is the bedroom. And if Pepper wasn’t sleeping with him, he briefly wonders if Peter—

He stops the thought before it truly starts—moving as far away from that head space as he can. 

“Hey Pete?” He calls. 

Peter’s across the workshop, tinkering with a project of his own. He needs to keep his hands busy so they won’t shake. 

Tony shudders, recalling a dark, damp cave in the middle of the desert.

Peter’s by his side in an instant, hand reaching out to touch him casually on the shoulder. 

“What’s up, Mr—Tony.”

Tony refuses to allow Peter to call him Mr. Stark anymore. It’s no longer appropriate. Tony consciously doesn’t delve into why. 

“Hey kid,” he murmurs gently, taking Peter’s hand off of his shoulder and holding it in his own. 

Peter glances between them, lost expression on his face. 

Tony takes his other hand in his own. Not helping the situation. But. 

“How are these, pal? More under control?”

Peter visibly relaxes, but only briefly. He contemplates his answer for a second before uttering, “Not really. I don’t...I don’t know what to do.”

Tony’s heart drops a little. They’ve ran every kind of blood test they can. Peter’s seen Strange, two rheumatologists, and a handful of therapists. They all gave similar updates.

Tony knows that it’s definitely less of a physicality and more a symptom of PTSD but apparently Peter isn’t talking to anyone about it. Not even a counselor. 

Before returning to a newly renovated 177A Bleecker Street, Strange pulled Tony aside privately. 

“Stark, it has to be you,” he murmured gently as he caressed Tony’s forearm in a soothing manner. 

Tony understood immediately. “I can’t—listen, it can’t be me—“

Strange squeezed his arm with a terribly sad look. He didn’t say anything more except, “It has to be.”

And then he vanished. 

It was unnerving. 

It was upsetting.

It was true. 

No one else knows what Peter went through except for Tony. And vice versa. They’ve been melded together in some sort of fucked-up codependency that no one’s openly talking about. Including the two of them.

Then again, the world has to be put back together, so everyone’s been a little busy.

Tony sighs, pressing down on the joint connecting Peter’s thumb with his index finger. 

Peter gasps, swaying forward. “It— it helps—when you do that. When you hold them, massage them.”

Tony presses down harder and Peter pulls back, clenching his hands into fists. 

“Sorry,” Tony murmurs.

He covers Peter’s hands with his own again, tentatively prying them back open with a small smile. 

Then he fully grasps them, interlocking their fingers. 

“Tony.”

Peter sounds out of breath. Tony stares at him, notes the slight flush peppering his neck. 

The touch is electrifying, skin against skin. It seems so innocent—but it’s deeper than that somehow. 

Peter died a boy and came back a man. He was always beautiful, something precious. But now he’s psychically stronger than ever. And quieter— more tame. 

He rarely speaks without thinking first. 

He listens to understand, not respond. 

He checks in on everyone, but never himself. 

He’s grown up. 

And Tony keeps having these thoughts—

He clears his throat. 

“Come on, let’s sit down.”

Tony tries to let go but Peter holds on, the theme as of late.

So they hold hands on the walk over to the couch and Tony’s somewhat shocked at how right it feels. His heart momentarily soars. 

He still breaks the connection when they reach the couch though. He’s well aware of Peter’s hyper sensitivity. 

He blinks, only for a second, and his vision fills with a burst of dark, burnt orange—

He jerks, just barely, but Peter sees. 

“Tony?” He asks, voice filled with concern. 

Tony quickly stands, clapping his hands together. “It’s nothing. We—“

He points to Peter, trying to keep his demeanor light. 

“—need to talk about the future. Like—about a year’s timeline? What’s the plan for college, young man?”

Peter cringes, frowning. And Tony does the same internally. 

Peter crosses his arms, leaning into the back of the couch. “There isn’t a plan. I’m not going.”

Now Tony crosses his arms. “Excuse me?”

Peter looks up at him, defiant yet still so earnest. “There’s no point. I need to research. And I can do that here. I want to stay here. And work in the lab.”

“With you,” he adds, biting his lip. 

Tony briefly gazes at the movement before berating himself. 

Peter raises his eyebrows, tilting his head back slightly. There’s a light dusting of pink high on his cheekbones. He almost looks like a doll. 

Tony sighs, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes until color pops in dots behind them. 

“Tony—I don’t want to leave, I don’t want to leave—here.”

The “you” is silent but it’s still heard.

Tony steps forward when he should probably step back but he’s going to gain control of this situation, dammit. They’re talking, but not about anything they should be. 

Tony’s the adult. He knows better. 

“Fine,” he says, coming to sit back down on the couch, “we can table college for now. It’s probably not a good distraction anyway, is it?”

He points his chin towards Peter’s hands, which he has clasped tightly together again. 

Peter stares down at them, momentarily startled. 

He looks back at Tony, whispering, “I don’t even remember uncrossing my arms.”

Tony’s lost. 

“Pete...”

“Don’t,” he interrupts, eyes wide. 

Tony reaches for him, swallowing down the hurt when Peter moves away. 

He takes a deep breath, trying to calm his frantic heart. 

“Honey,” letting the endearment he usually only reserves for Pepper slip, “we need—need to talk. About what happened.”

Peter shakes his head, cramming his hands up under his armpits.

“I’m not ready,” he responds, tone hushed. 

Tony holds up his hands, “Okay. That’s perfectly okay.”

Peter looks at him, and his face changes into something defeated, something painful. 

“Is it?” He quietly asks, bottom lip trembling. 

Tony goes to him, kneels down in front of him. Something desperate claws its way through his chest as he silently begs the universe to somehow make this situation better. 

Tony takes his shaking hands in his own again, longing to convey some sort of grounding, comforting emotion even though he’s stumbling through his own sense of stability. 

But he’s the adult here. Even if Peter is older now—Tony will always see him as that hyper, bright and brilliant boy from Queens. 

“Peter,” he murmurs, as evenly as he can muster, “you are always okay with me. I will always take care of you. I’ll never let anything bad happen to you again.”

Before either can dwell on what is surely at the forefront of their minds, Peter surges against him—wrapping his arms securely around his neck. 

Tony closes his eyes and inhales. 

Everyone thinks Peter’s the one who can’t let go. But as Tony returns his embrace, he wonders just how wrong they could possibly be.

\\\

They establish a fragile sort of balance once everyone else returns to where they belong. 

Rhodey stops commenting on Peter.

Vision and Wanda are making up for lost time. 

Carol and Maria take a much needed vacation. 

Pepper understands, like she always does, when she sees Peter following Tony around. 

She’ll give Tony the kindest, most understanding smile. Then she’ll usually leave them alone. 

A lot of the time they don’t talk, just sit in silence and hold hands. 

It should be weird. But it’s not. It’s...some kind of wonderful. 

It brings Tony a great sense of solitude. 

Just not enough. 

He has the people on Earth closest to him with him and they’re all safe, all accounted for. He should be happy, he should feel better than he does. 

And he’s so grateful. He is.

It’s just. 

Even with Pepper next to him, he isn’t sleeping. It’s been almost 7 months at this point. 

He’s up all night, tossing and turning so frequently she’s finally resulted to kicking him out of bed until he can fix it. 

They’ve talked about it a handful of times but the problem isn’t what’s keeping Tony awake. 

It’s what’s keeping him from sleep. 

He’s so terrified of closing his eyes and opening his mind to Titan and Thanos and destruction all over again. So he keeps himself awake, keeps his senses aware at all times. 

It’s better in the daytime, though. He’s always able to drift briefly in the early hours of the morning. Something about how different the color orange looks here, on Earth, eases his damaged heart. 

He’s just so restless.

Pepper tries terribly hard to understand but Tony knows she’s getting tired—exhausted— of dealing with him and all of his ways and all of his walls. 

Even Rhodey, who relocated his entire family to upstate New York to be closer to him, hasn’t come around in over a week. 

Happy’s constantly disappearing and Tony knows he’s seeing someone but he won’t tell him who. 

And even though he brought back the world, the world is moving on without him. 

He can’t kickstart his recovery, no matter how hard he tries. 

Peter is the only one who gets it. 

One night Tony wanders into the guest quarters of the compound, Pepper sound asleep back in the master wing. He opens the door to one of the bigger guest suits that overlooks an eastern prairie. He figures when the sun starts to rise his body will trick itself into thinking it’s time for bed. It’s the only thing that’s been working. 

He’s barely settled on the wrong side of the bed when Peter slinks by so quietly Tony nearly violently startles himself at the sight. 

“Tony?”

Tony pulls the blankets up, feigning fright. 

“Uh, yeah. Casper? Can you think about announcing yourself next time you’re gonna haunt the halls?”

Peter walks into the room, looking too confused to laugh. 

“Sorry, I just...” He trails off, looking around. 

“It’s just me,” Tony assures him. 

Peter nods, moving further into the room. He stops at the foot of the bed.

“What’re you doing on this side of the compound?”

He licks his bottom lip, eying Tony’s body from his feet to his head. Quick and impressively subtle. But Tony knows what he saw. 

Tony knows what he sees. 

Distantly, somewhere far off in the deepest depth of his brain, Tony knows whatever’s happening here is bad. 

He still does nothing to stop it. 

Peter presses a knee down on the mattress, strong, lithe body tilting forward. 

Tony coughs, clearing his throat before replying, “Pepper kicked me out.”

It’s not entirely the truth. It’s not entirely a lie, either. 

It’s complicated, he somewhat hysterically thinks. 

“Oh,” Peter responds. 

“I’m sorry,” he adds a second too late. 

Tony shrugs, motioning for Peter to climb in.

He doesn’t hesitate, nearly tripping over himself in his haste. He’s like an overeager puppy who’s just been brought home, anxious and excited and lovesick.

The thought settles something dark and sick in his stomach and he swallows it down, doesn’t confront it. Doesn’t confront any of it. 

Peter hesitates when he reaches for the blanket, looking at Tony. 

There should probably be a barrier between them. 

There’s vintage, amateur sex tapes of Tony on Pornhub with men involved. And Peter proudly came out to him as bisexual a few weeks after Coney Island. Just a nervous mess of a kid back then. 

But Coney Island was suddenly years ago. 

Which means Peter is no longer a kid. 

The force from which that fact hits him should deter whatever’s happening here from going any further. 

But Tony’s never done what he should. 

He didn’t even die when he was supposed to.

“Tony?” 

He silently nods and Peter lifts the blanket up delicately, like he’s afraid Tony will change his mind.

“You’re alright,” Tony tells him.

Peter settles under the blanket without another word. 

Tony tries to slow his pulse, even his breathing, gather his thoughts—but Peter next to him is unsettling.

Both of their bodies are entirely covered and the heat is already causing Tony to relax, back sinking into the mattress. Peter’s heightened blood must run hot because he’s so warm...

His eyelids droop, suddenly too heavy to keep open. His hand twitches next to his hip, subconsciously reaching for the body beside him. 

“Tony,” Peter whispers. 

The bed creaks as Peter slides closer to him, not touching, but within reach. The heat radiates off him in subdued waves and Tony shivers. He swears he’s been cold since Titan. But Peter is so hot...

They don’t touch. 

But they bask in a shared, dreamy bubble of sorts. Tony can feel his body starting to relax, loosen up—falling further into a headspace it’s been needing for months, probably years. 

And Peter seems alright too—lets out a long, content sigh like a big cat roasting on a rock under the sun.

Tony allows sleep to pull him under. 

\\\

Tony never believed getting the proper amount of rest was as vital or lavish as others always made it out to be.

Sleep seemed like a waste of time, an inconvenient necessity mandated by something more powerful than even him. 

That was before.

He slept nine hours his first night in bed with Peter.

Then one night turned to three which turned to five and suddenly he finds himself keeping a Secret from Pepper—the supposed love of his life—for over an entire week and he tries to rationalize the situation in his head but there’s no logical explanation to get him out of it. 

How’s he supposed to explain to his partner that he can’t sleep next to her? How is she ever going to see that as anything other than her not being enough?

Anxiety and panic clash inside him. He feels like he’s an unstoppable force and Peter is the immovable object. 

The tug his heart feels, the lump in his throat when he first sees Peter sound asleep in the morning—it’s becoming an addiction. 

And the worst part is there’s no one for Tony to blame but himself. 

Like always, he plays the worst possible card. 

He shouldn’t have allowed Peter into bed that first night. He should have insisted he go on about his night. 

He clenches his hands into fists at his sides. 

After days of sneaking away from Pepper to Peter, because that’s what this is—Tony decides to put a stop to it all. 

This ends tonight. 

He gets out of bed once FRIDAY confirms Pepper’s in REM. He glances down at her face, notes the soft gray spots under her eyes and instantly swallows the guilt he can feel climbing up his throat. 

Otherwise he’ll choke on it. 

And he can’t do that anymore. 

He needs to finally be here for Pepper. 

The world died and came back to life and what did he—what did the team—do any of it for, exactly? 

For him to slip off into the night and leave his broken-hearted girl behind? Again? 

She’s been gracious, courteous. Never asking any questions she knows he can’t answer after almost a decade together. 

She’s kind, loyal. So goddamn patient. 

She knows he’ll work it out, always believes he’ll get through whatever internal battle he’s fighting. 

He fights back tears at her complete and utter faith in him. 

That should be rewarded, cherished. And instead—

He’s taking advantage of her—sleeping next to a 20 year old who worships the ground he walks on—who’s most likely in love with him—and taking advantage of him, too. 

He should probably sleep alone until he figures his shit out.

All he ever seems to do is hurt the ones he loves. 

He tiptoes out of the room, sparing one last parting glance before leaving it completely. 

When he makes it the room he is steadfastly not referring to as his and Peter’s, Peter is waiting for him. 

He looks so small curled up in the middle of the king size. Something tender and equally tragic wraps around Tony’s heart and compresses at the sight.

Peter sits up as Tony enters, quiet as he watches him close the door. 

“I wasn’t sure if you were coming,” he whispers, fingers gripping the sheets self-consciously. 

Tony leans back against the frame, opening then promptly closing his mouth. 

“Tony...?”

He’s fully prepared to let the words fall, inform Peter of his intentions to sleep in the lab tonight until he can get his insomnia under control in another way. He rehearsed the mantra in his head the entire goddamn walk over here. 

But the longer Tony permits the silence to stretch between them, the brighter Peter’s eyes shine with unshed tears—much like they did on a rooftop in the city all those years ago. 

And suddenly whatever Tony came over here to do—he can’t. 

He’s the most powerful avenger in the universe. But he can’t do this. 

He’s a coward. 

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, moving towards the bed. 

Peter scoots to his side of the mattress as Tony lifts the covers and climbs in, a wave of relief washing over him as Peter’s residual heat caresses his body. 

He inhales, desperate to tether his erratic heartbeat to something besides Peter. But when he breathes, it’s Peter’s scent that overwhelms him. And when he listens, it’s Peter’s pulse that calms him. And before he turns off the light, it’s Peter’s eyes he seeks solace in. 

He turns off the light. They lay facing each other in the darkness. 

Peter reaches out his hand, like he has every night before, and Tony takes it in his own.

Neither of them comment on how Peter isn’t the only one who trembles.

Tony closes his eyes, willing sleep to take him away. He’s usually under in less than 5 minutes. 

But his heart is so heavy tonight. 

If Pepper saw what was happening, she’d lose her mind. And rightfully so—what the fuck is he even doing? 

Peter stares at him and Tony stares back. Nothing makes sense. Nothing really feels right anymore. 

Except for the solidity of Peter’s skin underneath his own. 

“Peter,” he whispers, soft and aching. 

In lieu of an answer, Peter squeezes his hand. 

He keeps his voice as low and stable as he can, trying to fight the distantly brewing nausea.

“We...probably can’t do this...Anymore. After tonight.”

The last part comes out shaky, uneven. 

Peter doesn’t reply for a moment. And Tony almost wishes he doesn’t respond at all. Because when he does it comes out wet and small. 

“Okay.”

He retracts his hand and Tony lets him because he has to exercise some self-discipline. It’ll only be harder tomorrow if he doesn’t. 

But when Peter starts to turn away, Tony reaches out and grasps his shoulder to stop him, eyes wide and searching. 

Peter doesn’t say anything. 

But he doesn’t turn away. 

Tony closes his eyes. 

\\\

He can tell something is wrong before he even fully awakes.

It’s dead silent in the bedroom. Not even a bird chirping outside the window. 

Beside him he can tell Peter’s no longer asleep by how shallow he breathes.

A cold, dead sense of dread floods his stomach as he opens his eyes.

Pepper’s gaze is hard and unrelenting when he meets it. 

She’s dressed to kill in a sleek, sexy suit. Bare minimal makeup besides for the sharp red lips painted on. 

She doesn’t say a word as she stares at them and Tony doesn’t dare look at Peter. 

Then she turns in her black Christian Louboutons and walks out of the room.

He springs out of the bed so fast he trips in the sheets, landing face first into the carpet. 

“Tony!” Peter exclaims, coming to assist by gripping him by his arms.

Tony shakes him off with a brief, panicked apology.

Peter looks hurt but Tony can’t even comprehend his well-being right now. He has to get to Pepper. 

“I’ll find you later,” he promises, quickly glancing back over his shoulder, “I have to fix this.”

He runs after her, adrenaline and alarm and fear coursing through him all at once. The combination used to be cathartic, pushing him into the most powerful version of himself. 

Now it feels gargantuan, like it’ll swallow him whole if he doesn’t get to Pepper in time. 

When he reaches her, however, sweaty and out of breath—he can tell by the done, utterly drained look on her face that there is no more time. 

She’s standing at the kitchen counter, eyes filled with anger and fire and worst of all—pity. 

“Pep—“ he tries, lump in his throat. 

She holds a hand up. A motion she’s only ever used twice before in their entire relationship. 

He pushes his lips together, bracing for impact.

She closes her eyes as she begins to speak, and when he hears the raw emotion in her voice he can no longer hold back the tears that have been simmering on the edge of his iris for weeks. 

They trail silently down his cheeks as he listens. 

“For years, I have loved you unconditionally. For years, I have devoted my entire heart to ensuring a stable path for you and your recovery.”

She pauses, taking a deep breath as she opens her sad, misty eyes. 

Something unbreakable breaks inside him as she continues—strong and steady and too soft for what the situation implies. 

“You are the only man I have ever loved. And I will carry that love with me until the day I die.”

She sighs, shoulders slumping as she looks up and lightly drags a thumb under her eye. 

Tony steps closer to her but she takes a step back, establishing direct eye contact.

“Pep—“

“Tony,” she interrupts him, voice breaking, “I know you have an explanation for whatever it is I just saw and God—the worst part is, I know nothing probably happened. I know you need Peter—I know he needs you. But—“

“Pepper, I swear, nothing happened—“

She holds her hand up again. “But Tony? I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep giving you everything and you give me half. We’re not kids. We never were. I am exhausted. I can’t keep waiting at the station for you—wondering if you’re just late. When in reality—I don’t think you’ll ever arrive.”

Tony feels like he’s going to throw up. Sickness bubbles in the back of his mouth but he forces it down—just like everything else, he represses it. 

When Pepper looks at him, he knows in his heart that this is it. It’s over. 

“You’ve never picked me, Tony. And honey-“

His heart cracks.

“-even after all this time, I know now that you never will.”

His heart splits. He leans forward, grasping at the counter as she immediately comes to his side, pressing her lips to his temple as soft as she possibly can. 

He’s fighting the hyperventilation, pushing the panic to the furthest recess of his head. But Pepper—she can’t leave—what will he do—

“Shhh, honey, just breathe,” she whispers.

And there it is. Her taking care of him. Like always. For forever. This is their dynamic, their relationship. It’s always been her nurturing him, restoring him. And him—battling himself. His demons. His destruction. 

He’s dragged her through it for far too long. 

He leans into her, pressing his nose into her collarbone and breathing in her scent as deeply as he can. 

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, broken up and kicked down. “I never—I never meant to—“

Pepper brings a hand to the back of his head, like she’s done a million times before. She pets delicately at his hair. 

“I know, honey.”

She presses a final kiss to his skin, soft and sweet and so heartbreaking he almost loses his balance again. 

She backs away. He stays where he is. 

“I will love you forever,” he tells her, eyes dark and deadly serious.

She nods because she knows. She always has. 

She backs away, wiping at her eyes. Before she leaves the room she turns around and they lock eyes. 

In an instant, Tony sees her under him, on top of him. By his side. He sees her laughing in the sunshine on a California beach and jumping over rain puddles lining New York City sidewalks.

He sees the bright side of their life together. Is all too familiar with the dark.

She tilts her head at him, keeping her emotions at bay, her gaze level. 

“I hope one day you find peace, Tony.”

Before he can reply she flees the room. 

He wants to chase after her. Get down on his knees and beg for her forgiveness, plead with her not to leave. But the time isn’t now.

Maybe the time is never. 

He sits down at the counter and collapses, sobs wracking his body so violently it would almost scare him if he wasn’t so certain he deserved the pain. 

\\\

He goes to stay with Rhodey while Pepper’s assistants pack up her portion of the compound. 

He sends Peter to New York with Happy with little explanation besides how he needs to spend more time with May. 

Peter doesn’t ask when he’ll be allowed back.

Being with Rhodey is so always so calming, so wonderfully soothing for his heart. 

Rhodey knew him before the drugs, before the scandals, before Afghanistan. Rhodey, for all intents and purposes, knew him relatively unscathed.

He knew him pre-trauma. 

There are very few people on Earth who can say that about Tony Stark.

They’re out cruising in Rhodey’s brand new, state of the art golf cart. His family’s property is beautiful and isolated, sitting on the edge of a pond almost big enough to be considered a lake. 

They take turns drinking hot coffee from a thermos, hitting miniature hills at a speed that would scare Tony if he wasn’t such an adrenaline junky. They reminisce about the time Tony almost got arrested at Laguardia because of a former flame sneaking drugs into his suitcase senior year.

It’s the most he’s laughed in a single day in probably years. For the first time in forever a sense of weightlessness surrounds him. 

When he arrived on Rhodey’s doorstep, his best friend immediately took him into his arms. 

“I’m gonna take care of you until you can take care of yourself.”

Tony doesn’t know if he’ll ever get to that point but he’s so grateful he has someone who’s willing to push him to try. 

Between goofing off on the property and Rhodey’s wife’s home cooked meals, Tony could almost say he’s doing okay. 

Except for sleep 

“Man, you look terrible,” Rhodey told him just that morning around 6:30.

“Haven’t been to bed,” Tony responded honestly. 

Rhodey’s tried everything—a heating pad, warm milk, melatonin, a hi-powered fan, a therapeutic sound machine, deep shoulder tissue massages. 

Nothing seems to be working.

“Maybe I should get on Ambien,” Tony mused over biscuits and eggs, staring out at the trees and hills and water. 

Rhodey didn’t even look up from the newspaper. “Absolutely not. We’re gonna find a way, man.”

Tony wants to confess, admit to his best friend that there is a way that helps him sleep and that way is Peter Parker. 

But. 

He can’t think of Peter without a weird, terrible combination of butterflies and nausea so he doesn’t mention it. 

He stays with Rhodey for 4 full weeks and when he returns to the compound he thinks he’s prepared, high off the energy that only comes from spending uncomplicated time with someone you love. 

But then the loneliness hits him like a tidal wave the minute he steps into the compound. There’s hundreds of workers here, separated from the private quarters. But no one Tony personally knows. 

Before he can truly think about it he fires up a suit and activates Peter’s location settings. 

He needs to see him, wants to check in on how he’s doing. 

Selfishly, that’s not all he wants. 

He needs to sleep, get some proper rest. 

He wonders if Peter needs it as much as he does or if he misread the entire situation. He’s uncharacteristically nervous as he flies through the clouds, trying his best to turn his thoughts off. 

It’s a beautiful, sunny day. 

He finds Peter sitting on a bench in the park, backpack tucked under his arms and headphones plugged in. 

He’s staring out across the Hudson as Tony lands nearby, deactivating the suit. 

He doesn’t want to startle him so he throws a plush ball he brought with him within his eye sight. 

Peter whips his head around immediately, one hand coming to remove a headphone from his ear. 

“Mr. Stark?”

And god, to be called that, by this kid—it brings back so many memories. 

Tony comes to sit down beside him, sunglasses tinting the world a turquoise sort of blue. 

“Mr. Parker,” he replies, crossing his legs. 

“What’re you doing here?”

The glitters on the river and perfect, fluffy clouds float lazily among the sky. Tony breathes in and the fresh grass scent fills his nostrils. 

He closes his eyes briefly. 

When he opens them he turns to face Peter directly. 

“I wanted to see you. How are you?”

He doesn’t look good. Bags line the skin under his eyes and he’s much paler than usual. His hair slicked back in a greasy, unkept mess. 

Tony’s proud of himself for keeping a straight face but this sight—it’s jarring, to say the least. 

“Not well,” Peter replies, tight and harsh. 

“Glad to see you care though, after kicking me out with no explanation.”

There’s a tremor in his voice that Tony wants to replace as soon as he can but he knows he earned this. He‘s been expecting this. 

He lets Peter let it out.

“And I know—Miss Potts—“

And if hearing her name isn’t like taking a bullet—

“—was upset but did you even try to explain to her what was going on? Because nothing was going on. After everything—you and me? We just need each other. I really...I need you.”

Something surges in Tony, powerful and hopeful all at once. He looks at Peter but Peter won’t look back. 

Peter pauses, taking a breath. When he continues, his voices gets a little higher, a tad louder.

“And then, you just—leave. No explanation. Kick me out of the house, out of the lab. Send me back here with Happy—who, by the way—“

And Peter looks at him now, eyebrows raised, “—is actually WITH my aunt. Did you know? Because they’re together—and that’s great—“

Tony internally agrees. Good for them. He didn't expect that. 

“But it’s awful for me, you know? Because everyone has someone.”

He pauses again as his voice breaks, and when tears start to fall Tony places a hand on his knee, secretly relieved when Peter doesn’t push it away. 

Peter continues, lowering his voice. “Everyone has someone Tony, and all I have is you.”

Peter doesn’t burst into tears but they come at an alarming rate, a seemingly endless river of wet that glistens against his pale skin. 

Tony’s heart clenches. 

Peter looks so defeated. Like his whole world has been conquered and he didn’t even have the choice to save it. 

Tony sighs. 

He reaches for Peter’s face, wiping his tears away with the sleeves of his blazer. 

“Peter. Sweetheart.”

Tony looks at him and decides if there's any time to do this, it's now. They're not going to fix it all. Not yet. But Tony has to try. Going one more day with Peter this miserable feels like a fate worse than death. 

So he gets down on one knee in front of him and Peter looks terrified as he keeps wiping away tears that won’t stop. 

Tony places his hands on both knees, much like in the lab all those months ago, and tells him, “I’m so sorry, baby. I’m—I fucked up, Pete. There’s still a lot I’m working on. And Pep—“

He coughs, trying not to cry as he pushes past the tidal wave of emotion.

He looks up at Peter as he says, “Pepper and I are done. And listen. It had nothing to do with her finding us asleep. Okay?”

Peter shakes his head, biting his bottom lip. 

“We tried— for years. To make it work. And Titan—“

Peter visibly flinches at the word, but Tony’s got him. He’s got him. He’s safe. He squeezes his knees, reassuring him. 

“—the trip, really. That was it. She begged me not to go. And I went anyway. And she gets it. But she doesn’t? And that’s okay. But yeah...”

He’s rambling he knows. But he needs Peter to understand before he takes him home. 

“Pepper...didn’t expect me to come back, Peter. And that pain—I—“

He looks down at the ground, swallowing so loud it’s heard between them. 

He looks back up.

“I know that pain. Because I didn’t expect you to come back, Peter.”

Peter kicks at a rock on the ground, briefly not looking at Tony. 

“Really?” He asks, quiet and cautious. 

Tony nods and Peter raises a shaking hand to his face, resting it gently against his cheek as he whispers, “Because I knew you would save me.”

Tony chokes up, just a little. “Oh?”

Peter leans down, hugging Tony, cheek to cheek. An intimate touch. A careful, loving press of skin against skin. 

“No matter what happened, I knew you would come for me.”

Tony shudders, heart pounding wildly in his chest. 

“And I'll also come for you. It doesn't always have to fall on you alone to fix everything, Tony. Sometimes you need to be saved, too.”

Tony rapidly blinks, nodding his head somewhat erratically. He doesn't know what to say so he does the next best thing. He takes Peter home.

\\\

He didn’t want to jump into anything with Peter, wasn’t even sure if that’s what either of them wanted or needed. 

But when Peter invites Tony to join him in the master bath, coy and shy and so nervous he nearly vibrates—

Tony loses all sense of patience and sensibility— pushing Peter against the giant bathroom counter and ripping away his sweatpants and hoodie.

He goes down on his knees for him immediately, starving for it. He hasn’t had a cock in his mouth for years and the groan Peter lets out when Tony’s hot, wet mouth engulfs him is practically illegal. 

“Fuck—Tony,” he kicks a leg against the cabinets, spreading himself as Tony focuses on breathing through his nose. 

Peter’s hands tentatively slide through Tony’s hair until Tony grasps tightly, signaling he likes it to be pulled. 

“Oh Jesus—I—“ Peter thrusts slowly and deeply into his mouth, his entire chest flushed the most delicious shade of pink as his abs clench in anticipation. 

Tony pulls off, voice utterly wrecked, “Fuck my face, Pete.”

Peter stares down at him, jaw loose and mouth hanging open. “Y-yeah?”

Tony bites his hip bone, hard enough to bruise, and Peter moans—sound echoing throughout the room.

“Yeah baby, come in my mouth.”

Tony hasn’t had sex in ages, all the built up anger and sadness and fury repressing any sort of a drive.

The lust comes back in full force now and when Peter slides his slick, perfect cock across Tony’s soft, wet, tongue—he whimpers with how much he wants it. 

He sucks until Peter’s knees go weak and he slouches, lazy and lust-induced, against the counter, thrusting wildly and without restraint- 

—and coming in shocking, sensitive waves when Tony slides a finger down between his balls and his hole, gently teasing his perineum. 

When they actually make it into the shower, Tony’s amazed at how forward the kid actually is. 

“Wanted this for so long Mr. Stark,” he breathes into Tony’s mouth, biting playfully at his bottom lip.

“Need you to fuck me now,” he pleads, sucking at the water sluicing down the thin skin of Tony’s neck. 

Tony grips his hips hard, whispers, “God. Baby. Yes. Whatever you want—“

There’s still shower lube, among other amenities, lining the wall, and when Peter backs Tony into a corner and lifts a knee to rest on the bench, guiding Tony’s fingers to his hole with a slick, filthy kiss—Tony momentarily loses his breath. 

When Tony gently turns him against the wall and presses all along his back, he holds him for a just moment. Like he’s dreamed about before many times in the past.

“Tony—“ Peter’s voice falters and Tony wraps an arm around him, letting his hand rest on top of his heart.

“I’ve got you,” he tells him, “I promise I’ve got you—“

When Tony’s cock slides inside it feels like something snaps into focus. He moans, high and broken, against the slick skin of Peter’s shoulders. 

“That's it," Peter urges, gentle and so careful.

Tony wants to last longer but finds he can't, not when the slick heat of Peter's body grasps him so tightly.

“Come inside me Tony,” Peter begs.

Tony bites down on his neck, thrusts rapidly losing control the closer he approaches orgasm.

“Baby, I love you, you’re safe—“

Peter grips his own cock, stroking it and painting the tile walls in white.

“Ahh—I love you, Tony, God—“

And when he clenches down on him, Tony comes inside. And it’s like coming home—safe and warm and free from pain or anguish. 

They lay awake in bed for hours afterwards, naked and clean and warm and cozy.

They kiss until their lips are sore, until Peter covers Tony’s neck in love marks, until Tony wrings another orgasm from Peter’s cock with his big hand. 

And when they’re finally ready to sleep, Tony programs FRIDAY not to disturb either of them for any reason. 

Except if the world’s ending, of course. 

They lay down facing each other, hands clasped together. Peter's are no longer shaking.

He closes his eyes first while Tony watches just a little longer. 

And then, just when he begins to wonder if the time will ever come...

He finally rests.

**Author's Note:**

> guys. i literally wrote this in 3 hours. I'm going to see endgame today and i HAD to put this out there before i go. i'm so anxious. i'm so nervous. i love tony stark so much. i just wanted to write something where he was guaranteed a beginning instead of a possible ending. i so hope you enjoyed, TYSM for reading. come cry w/ me on tumblr: @themidwestfeminist


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